Mass Extinction Event (Book 2): Days 9-16 Page 4

  Eventually, as Joe finally stops calling out to me, I decide to do something I haven't done for many years. It's kind of desperate, but it's my only choice.

  Getting down onto my knees, I close my eyes and put my hands together. There's an ominous kind of silence all around me, as if the world is waiting for me to say something. I'd like to think that God is waiting for me to speak, but in truth, I don't even know if I believe that he exists. Still, I've got to try something, and this is the only idea I've got at the moment.

  "Dear Lord," I whisper eventually, "I know I haven't exactly been to church much, and I know my family's been pretty much the same, except my mother, she wanted to go but my father wouldn't drive her. Anyway, I know you know all this already, 'cause you know everything, but I'm just letting you know that I know it's wrong." I pause, trying to work out how to phrase this. "We need a miracle. I don't know what's happening, and I don't know how much of the world has been affected, but right now, Lord, we need a miracle. I need you to make me smart enough so I can come up with a way to save my brother. He's really bad right now, and I don't even know if he'll make it through the night, so I need you to give me the extra intelligence so I can work out what to do. Or give us some other kind of miracle."

  From outside, there's the sound of Joe starting to moan again. He sounds like he's in a bad way, worse than before.

  "Can't you hear that, Lord?" I ask. "I know you can, so won't you do something? We need a miracle to help us get to somewhere safe, and we need another miracle to bring us someone who knows how to help my brother and fix him up. I know he's hurt bad, but you can do something about that, can't you? You can make it so he doesn't get infected, and -"

  I pause as Joe's pained moan becomes louder. Although I try to block the sound from my mind, it's impossible. He sounds like he's suffering all the pain in the world.

  "You can make it so he gets better," I continue, squeezing my eyes even tighter shut. "You can fix him, so... fix him. I need him alive. I don't know why you made it so that the truck dropped on him in the first place, but whatever it was, he's learned his lesson. I know he's been a bad person in the past, but he's not the only one. We've all been bad. Don't punish him for robbing that gas station or for getting drunk or for anything else. Give him a miracle and let him live, and let the pain all go away so that he doesn't have to suffer. Can't you hear him?"

  I pause, and the only sound comes from Joe's agonized cries for help.

  "Please, Lord," I whisper, clasping my hands together so tight, it's starting to hurt.

  I wait.

  "Just one miracle," I continue. "Can't you spare one miracle to help us?"

  Again, I wait.

  Nothing.

  And then...

  With Joe still calling out for help, I open my eyes. Maybe it's insane, but I'm sure I can feel something moving through my body, giving me strength. All my doubts and fears seem to be falling away, and there's a new kind of strength rising inside me, telling me what I have to do. Part of me's scared, but part of me knows that this is the only way I can make things right. I don't know if it's a miracle, exactly, but it's something new in me, something that's giving me more strength that I ever knew I could possess. I know what I have to do, and I know I can do it. With a heavy heart, I get to my feet and walk toward the door.

  Elizabeth

  New York

  "Piss break!" Erikson shouts as he brings the van to a halt by the side of the road. It's almost sunset, with the light starting to fade, and I guess we'll be looking for someone to stay the night soon. Climbing out, he starts walking into the nearby bushes, leaving me sitting in the back of the vehicle with Dawn. We've been driving for hours, and he still hasn't really responded to me. She just seems content to sit and stare in the distance, letting her body jolt about as the van speeds along these uneven roads.

  "You need the bathroom?" I ask, worried that she might lack the necessary gumption to work out what she's supposed to do. I'm still a little cautious about her, and I'm starting to wonder if she's more than just traumatized. What if she's got a proper problem, maybe something that existed before all of this happened? Still, I feel kind of protective of her, almost like she's a stray dog I found in the middle of nowhere.

  "Jesus Christ," Shauna says as she gets out of the truck, "can't the bitch even decide when to take a leak?"

  I stare at Dawn, hoping to see some flicker of recognition, but she still seems blank. Without saying anything, I lean across and slide the door open before getting out of the van. To my surprise, when Shauna comes waddling around from the other side, I see that she's pregnant. Like, seven or eight months gone, with a big bump.

  "Yeah," she mutters as she walks past me. "Good timing, huh?"

  I turn and watch as she makes her way into the undergrowth. To be honest, I can't even begin to imagine what she's going to do with that baby. I mean, obviously she's going to give birth and try to raise it, but with the world in such turmoil, how the hell is that child ever going to have a chance? Suddenly I realize that I understand why she seems so angry with the world, and there's a part of me that wants to go and offer her some help. Then again, I guess she'll come to me if she needs anything.

  "You girls drink?" Erikson asks as he emerges from the bushes, pulling up the zipper on the front of his trousers. "We've got quite a lot of beer, so if you fancy one, help yourselves. Only one, mind."

  "I'm fine, thanks," I tell him, before making my way into the undergrowth. It takes me a few minutes to find a quiet, private spot, but eventually I manage to pee before cleaning myself and heading back toward the camper van. By the time I get there, I find that Erikson has pulled out some bottles of water from a box, and he's placed one on the table in front of Dawn, who's still sitting inside the vehicle.

  "Your friend doesn't seem to want drink," he says.

  "Dawn," I say, walking over to the door, "you really need to drink. I know you might not realize it, and I know you might not feel like it, but you've got to keep yourself healthy. You can't just shut down and stop living."

  She turns and stares at me.

  "You understand me, don't you?" I continue. "Dawn, you do speak English, don't you?"

  She frowns.

  "Give me a sign," I say. "Just nod if you understand."

  Slowly, she nods.

  "Good," I say, before taking a swig of water. "I really think you should have a drink. It doesn't have to be much, but you could die if you don't. No matter how bad you feel, you'll feel ten times worse if you let yourself get dehydrated." I wait for her to answer, but she seems lost in a daze, unable to do anything other than stare blankly at me. "Dawn, come on," I continue. "Don't be dumb. Just unscrew the top of the bottle and drink a little. Enough to keep you going, at least."

  Finally, as if somehow my words have slowly managed to work their way through her mind, she picks up the bottle and does exactly what I told her to do. She seems more than a little confused, and I can't help but glance over at Erikson, who's watching this all unfold with a puzzled look on his face. I can see that he's basically thinking what I'm thinking, which is that whatever's wrong with Dawn, it's way more than just trauma or shock.

  "Are we gonna get going, then?" Shauna shouts as she emerges from the undergrowth.

  "Wait!" Erikson hisses at her.

  Slowly, almost as if it hurts, Dawn puts the bottle to her mouth and takes a brief sip, before lowering it again.

  "You need to drink more," I tell her, feeling a tightening sensation in my chest. Something's wrong here, and there's a look of fear in Dawn's eyes that makes me wonder if I made a big mistake by letting her tag along.

  After a pause, she raises the bottle again, and this time she starts to drink all the water. As she tilts her head further back, however, I suddenly realize that most of the water is just pouring out the back of her skull, and dribbling down onto the floor.

  "What the fuck?" Erikson says, taking a step back.

  Dawn continues to 'drink', until the
bottle is empty and the rest of the water has finished pouring through her head. Finally, she puts the bottle on the table and gets to her feet, shuffling out of the van and walking straight past me. As she goes, I see that there's water all over her back, mixed with what appears to be blood.

  "What's wrong with her?" Shauna asks.

  Before I can reply, Dawn stops and then drops to her knees, before toppling over and landing face-first in the dirt. My heart still racing, I walk cautiously over to her, and finally I spot something sticking out from under the hair that covers the back of her neck, glinting in the sun. Taking a deep breath, and fighting the urge to run, I kneel next to her and move the hair aside to reveal what appears to be a large piece of metal embedded in the back of her skull. Wedged deep, the metal must be stuck in her brain, which I guess explain the fact that she was so blank and unresponsive. It's hard to believe that she was even able to walk around, but I guess somehow the injury left her motor skills intact.

  "Jesus," Erikson says, turning away. "What the fuck happened to her?"

  "I have no idea," I say, feeling a cool sense of fear and sorrow rising through my body.

  "Fuck," he continues. "She must be, like, brain dead or something."

  "She's properly dead," I say, looking down at Dawn's face and seeing that her eyes are wide open, and she's not even responding to the specks of dirt and dust on her eyeball. Cautiously, I reach down and put my fingers against the side of her neck, and sure enough there's no pulse. "She's dead," I say again, before turning to the others. "I had no idea," I say, as I realize that my hands are shaking. "I swear to God, I thought she was just shocked."

  "I told you not to pick them up!" Shauna screams.

  "This isn't her fault!" Erikson replies, unable to stop staring at Dawn's body.

  "I told you!" Shauna says, waddling around to the passenger side of the van. "Leave them here! They're not coming with us!"

  "I'm sorry," I say quietly.

  "We have to leave her," Erikson says. "You can come, Elizabeth, but she's dead. We can't take her body, and we don't have time to stop and bury her."

  "She needs a grave," I reply.

  "If you want to dig her a grave," he continues, "you can, but we're not going to wait for you." With that, he hurries back to the van.

  "I'm sorry," I say, looking down at Dawn. "I have to go. I'm so sorry I couldn't..." My voice trails off as I realize that there's no way she can hear me. At least she's dead now, so the suffering is over. Getting to my feet, I hurry back to the van and climb inside.

  "What's she doing here?" Shauna shouts.

  "We can't leave her here," Erikson replies firmly. "She'll die."

  "So?" Shauna continues, turning to me. "You've got no right to be here, you crazy fucking bitch! Get back out there with your fucked-up friend!"

  "She's coming with us!" Erikson says, starting the engine and hitting the gas pedal. As the van lurches into motion, I lean across and slide the door shut, before turning and looking out the back window and watching as Dawn's body disappears into the distance.

  "I swear to God," Shauna says, staring straight ahead, "this is a fucking mistake."

  Sitting in the back of the van, I realize there are tears in my eyes. It's crazy, but while I still haven't properly cried about Henry, I'm soon in floods of tears as I think about what happened to Dawn. I knew her for less than a day, and now I'm not even sure if I 'knew' her at all. Was she even capable of thought, or did she just follow me around in her brain-damaged state? I find it hard to believe that there was no hint of her mind in there somewhere, but with tears pouring down my face, I can't help trying to imagine what she must have been going through. Suddenly, as I look out the window and see the sun starting to dip below the horizon, a thought strikes me. When I first met Dawn, I was standing with the rising sun behind me; I remember the way she squinted and shielded her eyes from the sun. I take a deep breath as I realize that the only word she ever said to me, 'dawn', wasn't her name at all. She was just saying what she could see behind me.

  I never knew her real name at all.

  Thomas

  Missouri

  "Hey," I say, standing next to the back of the truck.

  Joe's in no condition to reply. During the few hours I was inside the house, his condition has got way worse, to the point that he seems to be kind of delirious. There's fresh blood coming from his injuries, combined with white and yellow pus, and in his attempts to crawl away, he's ended up smearing everything all over his face and body. Before, I would have convinced myself that there's a way to fix all of this, but right now I've got this new kind of strength that's telling me I have to do the right thing. Not the easy thing, and not the thing I want, but the thing that's right and moral and good.

  I have to be a good brother.

  "Can you hear me?" I ask, climbing up onto the back of the truck. "Joe, can you hear me?"

  He doesn't reply. He looks fevered, and although he lets out a low, guttural groan, it's clearly not a response to anything I've said. He's like a rabid animal. I don't even know if the real Joe is in there anymore. In a way, I want to know that he can hear me, to know that he understands what I'm doing, but at the same time I guess it'd be better if his mind has left his body completely, leaving behind nothing that can really feel pain. This isn't Joe; this is just his body, writhing and gasping before the inevitable end. All I need to do is find a little more inner strength, stop seeing things as if I'm still a child, and do what's necessary. I need to be a man.

  "Okay," I say, taking a deep breath, "I'm gonna do what you asked, but I'm gonna do it in a way that stops your pain as fast as possible." Deciding that there's no point delaying things, I grab the tarpaulin and lay it over Joe's body, leaving just his face clear for a moment. "If you can hear me," I continue, looking down at his bloodied, fevered features, "I hope you know that I'm just doing what you wanted. God gave me this strength, you see, and he made me realize that I've got to do what's right. So I'm..." I pause, as tears start falling down my cheeks. "So I'm gonna make it real quick, and painless, or as painless as possible. You won't feel anything, and then you'll be on the other side. Like, in paradise. You'll be up there in heaven, looking down at me."

  No reply. He just continues to let out a groan.

  "You're gonna see everyone again," I continue. "Everyone from back home. You're the lucky one here. You understand that, right? You're the one who gets to go to a better place and be with everyone. I've got to stay here and deal with..." I pause as I realize that I'm in danger of getting too focused on myself. This is about Joe. "You've been the best brother I could ever have had," I continue, "and I know we disagreed about a lot of stuff, but I know you were there for me when it mattered, just like I'm here for you. I'm sorry I couldn't make things work out better, but at least I can take away your pain." I open my mouth to say something else, but finally I realize that I'm just prolonging his agony. There's nothing else I can say, nothing else I can do, so I simply take the edge of the tarpaulin and move it over his face.

  Stepping back, I grab the rifle and check that it's properly loaded. I can still hear Joe moaning from beneath the tarpaulin, and there's a part of me that wants to just get in the front of the truck and start driving again, hoping against hope that some miracle might deliver us to people who can help. I know that's not the right thing to do, however, and I know that I'd just be condemning Joe to a long, drawn-out and painful death. If I love my brother, I have to kill him. He's clearly in some much pain, it's agonizing to listen to him. Slowly, I raise the rifle and aim it at the part of the tarpaulin that's covering his head.

  Everything around me seems to fall quiet. The forest, the house, Joe's moans, my own heartbeat.

  I take a deep breath.

  I steady my shaking hands.

  Finally, I pull the trigger. The body under the tarpaulin jerks once, but falls completely still before the echo of the gunshot has even stopped ringing through the trees. I'm left staring at the hole in the tarpau
lin, and then at the large pool of blood that's starting to soak through. For a moment, it's as if my mind has gone completely blank. I can't even process the reality of what just happened, of the fact that I shot my brother, but eventually I realize that the silence all around me is also the silence of Joe's passing. All his pain is over, and I just hope that in his final moments, he understood that I was doing the right thing. Despite everything else, I know deep down in my heart that it would have been wrong to let him live with such agony. It would have made me feel better, in the short term, not to have had to make this decision, but in the end I chose to sacrifice my peace of mind in order to look after Joe.

  Climbing down from the back of the truck, I prop the rifle against the side of the vehicle before walking a couple of paces toward the house. I know I need to clean up, to dig a grave and bury Joe, but right now I feel as if I'm going to collapse. My knees feel weak, and I can't stop replaying the past few minutes in my mind. Did I make a mistake? Did I do a terrible thing? As I reach the house, I pause for a moment and take a series of deep, calm breaths. It's as if the world is spinning, and I have to force myself to remain calm. I'll get over this. I'll find a way to stop thinking about everything that happened, and somehow I'll carry on. For Joe's sake, and for my parents' sakes, I'll keep fighting.

  "Turn around slowly," says a man's voice from nearby.

  I freeze. I hadn't heard anyone approaching, and my first thought is that maybe it's one of those creatures.

  "Did you hear me?" the man continues. "Turn around very slowly and put your hands where I can see them."

  Barely able to string two thoughts together, I raise my hands and slowly turn to see that there's a middle-aged man standing over by the trees, aiming a rifle straight at me.